


Bestowal of Spirit

by Catsnake



Category: Dragon's Dogma
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:42:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9852263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsnake/pseuds/Catsnake
Summary: As the Arisen's main pawn begins to comes to terms with a growing sense of free will and emotions, he finds himself coming terms with a specific kind of feeling, too.





	

            Alistor drew his staff, kneeling. The breeze picked up and passed over him, ruffling his robes and long hair, smelling of salt and the sea. Gulls circled and tipped over the sea, their sharp cries punctuating the rolling of the waves.

            “’Tis just a scratch, Alistor, really.”

            The man they called Arisen sat in front of him. Blood was seeping from his trousers on his left leg, around his shin, where a wolf had gashed him. He had short dark hair, piercing eyes, a clever face. He sighed and rolled up the leg of trousers. The wolf had sliced him well: the wound was relatively short in length but fairly deep.

            He hid the pain remarkably well, thought Alistor as green light pulsed from his staff and hands. What a fascinating human.

            “You are mended, Master,” he said, rising.

            The Arisen flashed him a smile, and said, “Does feel better. Thank you, Alistor.”

            One of the Arisen’s other pawns blinked at the Arisen’s grin.

            “You humans make so many expressions,” he said.

            The Arisen’s other pawn stood nearby, watching with mild, detached curiosity. That was the way of their kind: curious, detached, lacking a will of their own. Perfect to be filled by the command of powerful humans, those who summoned them from the Rift, where they wandered: their native “land”, a great void. In this world, they took on human forms, took on names. Alistor was the name given to him by his master; as the Arisen’s main pawn and constant companion, the Arisen had, as was customary, dictated his very appearance in his human form.

            These latest two pawns that the Arisen had summoned were fighters both, heavily armed and armored, and of brutish height and build.

            Alistor found himself engaging less and less with the other pawns his master summoned and forged covenants with. He increasingly found, to his curiosity, that he was finding it more difficulty to identify with them.

            He was reminded, again, of his master’s encounter with the witch Selene, and the revelation that she had once been a pawn. A pawn who, after a long time traveling with her master, had become human. Alistor was uncertain why he found himself thinking about this so often. It confused him.

            He confused himself much lately. He preferred to be distracted from his introspection, and there was ample opportunity during their travels. Currently, they were to investigate harpy activity along this coastal cliff, and it was for this purpose his master had summoned these two other pawns.

            “’Tis strange, that we have found not a feather,” noted one of the pawns.

            “These are their nests, here to our right,” said the other, as they climbed the hill. “They’re empty.”

            “This is…” the Arisen’s voice trailed off, as his eyes narrowed. “Is that smoke? Up ahead?”

            Before any of them had time to comment on the rising smoke ahead of the trail, a deafening bellow sounded.

            The pawns had their swords drawn, and the Arisen had his bow in hand in an instant. And then it a great red shape lifted up into view: a drake.

            “No…” the Arisen said quietly.

            The Arisen’s reaction unnerved Alistor. He recognized fear. He drew his staff, prepared a lightning spell. His heart raced. My own heart, thought Alistor. What is this? Fear, some quiet part of him answered, half in awe.

            The drake was upon them, spewing fire, its scales dully catching the sunset’s light; everything around them had the sense of burning.

            “Master! I grant you ice’s bite!” Alistor called, casting his spell, as the Arisen drew a bolt of magic in his bow.

            “Much obliged,” replied the Arisen, and fired.

            The two pawns had the drake’s immediate attention, blades swinging at the drake’s legs and belly as it came near.

            “Its strength is immense,” said Alistor. “And in this narrow cliff passageway, it has the advantage.”

            “That’s true. This one is powerful…” replied the Arisen. Alistor could see sweat glistening on his furrowed brow. He was acutely aware of his heartbeat again. Rarely did his master show any hint of concern.

            The drake had managed to catch one of his pawns in its jaws, and he flailed, screaming. Swearing, the Arisen fired off shot after shot, aiming at its eyes, but missing as it twisted its head. As the drake opened its jaws and snapped them hard on its prize, the other pawn managed to leap forward and with a mighty downswing, struck the drake’s leg, crippling it. The pawn in the drake’s jaws dissipated, losing its human form and returning to the Rift, and the drake, enraged and pained, turned, partially collapsing, to the other pawn. Its maw filled with fire, and it closed its jaws simultaneously on the pawn. The Arisen fired another shot as it did so, and this time he struck its left eye. Shrieking, the drake turned to him.

            What happened next seemed to Alistor to happen all at once: the Arisen stood on a rocky peak, taking aim at the drake a short distance below, and the drake pulled itself up, fire brimming in its jaws, and propelled by its wings, lunged forward at the Arisen, and as it approached, mere feet away, its chest at eye level, the Arisen released a charged shot directly into its heart and the drake fell forward, screaming, and slammed into the Arisen, taking them both down into the precipice.

            “Master!” screamed Alistor. He ran to the cliff’s edge. He hesitated for a moment. Then he dived over the edge.

            He hit the water gracefully, and looked around below the water’s surface, in the muted blue of the sea. The great, dark shape of the drake’s body fell past him, sinking into the darkness below. Then he found it: the smaller shadow of the human. He took the Arisen by the waist and swam upward, breaking the surface, gasping.

            He carried them to the water’s edge. There was a small shelter provided by overhanging rock on the beach beneath the cliff. The sky outside was darkening. He carried his master onto the rocky beach and then collapsed, exhausted. The Arisen was still breathing. Alistor pulled himself up and sat straddling the human; he tore open the Arisen’s shirt and pressed, right over the long, pale scar of the Arisen’s missing heart, his hand glowing green. The Arisen immediately gave a spluttering cough, the water emptying from his lungs; his eyes flew open, and he gave a disoriented cry.

            “You’re all right, Master,” Alistor said. He felt relief wash over him. Had he felt something like this before?

            As he moved his hand to face to push his dark, wet hair from his face, his hand gave him pause: the pawn mark on his hand appeared to be shimmering, fading in and out. He stared, incredulous. The strange shimmering went away. A hallucination?

            “Alistor,” said the Arisen softly. Alistor moved to him, and the Arisen lifted a hand and rested it on Alistor’s cheek, feeling the stubble there. His hand was warm, Alistor thought, and surprisingly gentle. “You saved my life. Not for the first time, I’m certain,” he said.

            Slowly, he lifted his own hand to his face, placed it over the human’s.

            “Think nothing of it, Master,” he said. Then he stared steadily into the Arisen’s eyes. “I am becoming human, Master.”

            The Arisen chuckled, and then grew serious, staring at him a long while.

            “So you are,” he said.

            “I want to remain with you anyway, Arisen.”

            The Arisen looked at him for a moment longer and then suddenly sat up, simultaneously pulling Alistor forward, and he kissed him on the mouth. Pleasurable, thought Alistor. The sensation was pleasurable. Warm. He found himself climbing onto the human, lying atop him and leaning down as they kissed, the Arisen’s arms reaching up and wrapping around him, drawing him closer.

            Then they lay there like that, embracing. They were surrounded only by the sound of the waves, gentle at the shore beyond, and the gleaming stars above.

            “I’m glad. I’m glad you summoned me, Master,” said Alistor.

            The Arisen laughed. “My name is Edwyn,” he said.

            “Edwyn,” Alistor said, testing it. And then, after a moment, “Until morning, we’re safer down here, like as not.”

            “I agree,” said Edwyn, turning to rest his face against the taller man’s neck, letting his cheek brush against short stubble of Alistor’s beard. “We’d best remain here for the night.”

            “’Tis the most practical choice,” Alistor replied, holding Edwyn’s waist, pulling him closer, closing his eyes. He stared up at the stars, listening to the calm breathing of the other man.

            He felt himself smile.


End file.
